


Crossing the Distant Night

by Shaded Mazoku (Ashkaztra)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Post-Series, Pre-Slash, Wraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashkaztra/pseuds/Shaded%20Mazoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wraith, it turns out, are blanket thieves. John isn’t sure how he feels about that, or truthfully, how he feels about anything anymore. He probably shouldn’t think too much about it. Especially not while sleep-depraved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing the Distant Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is a double reject fic. Yay! *chuckles* Not that I rejected it for being bad, necessarily, just not right for its former stories. Originally, this was to be part of Into the Hive, but ItH is not really a ship-focused fic, and it seemed a little out of place. Not that this necessarily has to be ship-related, though it turned pre-slashy to me somewhere in there. And then I wanted to put it in another fic and then I got eaten by a plot bunny and that fic is now looking to be something much more intimidating in size and plot. This could technically still be a missing scene from that fic right now, but by the time I finish the other fic, it probably won’t fit any more. 
> 
> So I’ve left this to stand on its own wobbly legs. It’s a post-series fic about unexpected bonds and fluffy blankets, with a large dose of Wraith head-canon stirred in. Also gratuitous use of present tense, because that happens when I do random fic. I have an obsession with the possibilities of Todd’s “The Gift of Life is reserved for our most devout worshippers … and our brothers” statement. Actually, I just have an obsession with Todd. And Wraith in general.

There's a Wraith in his bed. A living, breathing Wraith curled up into a ball of blankets, pillows and lethalness.

To be fair, John is fully aware that he's overreacting a little bit, because really, he invited Todd, and it's a lot more innocent than it sounds. 

John has been awake for a little over thirty-seven hours, and has only now been dismissed to get some rest, but Todd had been awake for much longer when John invited him. Wraith don't need much sleep when they're out of hibernation, but even space vampires have to get a few hours in every week, which Todd hasn't been getting lately.

The last few weeks have been a nightmare.

It must be said that his current situation still resembles a weird dream, if not an actual nightmare.

Because invited or not, there's still an honest-to-god ancient space vampire in his bed.

He wonders, and not for the first time, if maybe there's some feline in the Wraith, because it'd explain a lot. Todd is not a small man, or man-shaped thing, by any means. Though he's not as broadly built as Ronon, he still has several inches on John, and he's not exactly slight of build either. Still, he's somehow managed to curl himself into a small ball of wraithiness, or something, taking up much less space than should be possible.

John has seen Todd sleep before, though not often, and usually involves him just lightly dozing off, ready to spring to action the moment he wakes. Wraith can apparently drift into that resting state while standing, which explains a few things about Steve’s behaviour way back when. That is less sleep and more of a stand-by mode, though. This is different, and though he's mostly certain it's because of exhaustion, John likes to think that one of the few good things to come out of the mess that is the last year or so is that Todd trusts him a little these days. Enough to let his guard down and actually sleep.

And steal his blankets, apparently.

Dave sent him one of those fake fur throws for Christmas, because the new planet they've landed Atlantis on is cold and John might have mentioned that "the new base" was chilly. Ever since their father died, they’ve been making an effort to at least be in touch with each other a few times a year, still uncertain of how to interact with each other, but unwilling to give up the effort. The throw is Dave’s latest offering, made in fake mink, very soft and warm, and apparently Todd likes it because he has somehow cocooned himself into it. 

Were he anything but Wraith, it would be cute. As it is, it's still kind of terrifying.

Todd isn't even that bad, for a Wraith, but he's still intimidating as hell, even asleep. 

Intimidating enough that John tries to convince himself that he can sleep on the couch, even knowing that it won't work. His couch is good for sitting on, but hopeless for lying down on. Too hard, and he tends to end up eaten by the crack between the cushions and the back. 

Much as his relationship with Todd has improved over the year, though, he doubts that'll save him if he tries getting him to move off the bed. 

Wraith bite. And with their teeth being the unholy offspring of a shark and a garbage disposal, being bitten by one of them tends to ruin the day. Not that John has ever been bitten by one, or that Todd tends to bite for no reason, but a cornered Wraith, or just a cranky one, will fall back on their natural weaponry. He's seen it happen before. Todd, as a general rule, is a very patient Wraith and surprisingly hard to really provoke, but the others of his Hive are more volatile, especially the younger ones.

Which is all well and good, but John really wants to sleep, and the floor is not an option.

He looks at Todd again and really, he can't imagine ever twisting himself into that angle, but the advantage of it is that he's really not taking up that much space. If John could just nudge him over a bit, there'd be room for them both.

Sharing a bed with a Wraith is definitely a bad idea, but John is honestly too tired to care. He'll stress about it later. Right now, he has bigger concerns. 

Like how to make Todd move without losing a limb. 

As it turns out, he worries needlessly, because as he reaches out to nudge Todd's shoulder, the Wraith just lifts his head slighty, eyes opening half-way and glowing in the light like some kind of wild animal's.

"Mind moving over?" John asks, determined not to let it feel weird until he's had enough sleep to deal with things. 

Todd doesn't even reply verbally, though to be fair, Wraith prefer non-verbal communication anyway. He just rolls over and manages to further cocoon himself into the bedding. He looks like a caterpillar. A Wraithepillar, maybe, and if John is really considering that in context of how Wraith reproduce, he needs sleep more than he'd thought.

If Dave had seen the fake mink throw now, complete with curled up Wraith, he’d probably try to have John locked up for his own sanity. John isn’t entirely sure he’d be wrong to do so, either. 

Kicking off his boots and pulling off his belt, he crawls onto the bed and yanks as much bedding out from underneath Todd as he can manage. For a guy that isn't that much bigger than John, he's heavy. Taller, sure, but not bigger. Then again, Wraith have a denser bone structure, or something, and that probably helps. John doesn't care right now. He just wants a blanket. 

He should probably be panicking still, but for some bizarre reason, lying next to a Wraith on a bed that isn't really a double is actually kind of soothing. Todd's breath is slow and steady, far too slow for a human, and it seems almost hypnotic. 

Yawning, John tugs his half of the blanket over himself and closes his eyes.

*

He wakes to a dark room and a Wraith pressed against his back, because it's just that kind of week. 

Surprisingly, he doesn't really mind. There's nothing sexual about the way Todd has curled into him at all, and John can’t deny that he sort of enjoys the touch. It is so rare for someone to touch him like that. He supposes he shouldn't really be too surprised about the situation. While Wraith are, strictly speaking, endothermic, they have a lower body temperature than human by quite a few degrees. They can regulate their own temperature like mammals do, though through different means, but their blood is naturally tepid more than hot, because insect and mammal traits in the same organism is an absolute biological nightmare and should never happen. 

John isn't a biologist, and Wraith make him very happy he's not. He focuses more on the things he can feel, like the fact that on an average, Wraith body temperature is in the mid-seventies rather than the high nineties like a human's, so it's not really that odd that Todd seems to find him a good personal heater. Wraith, as it happens, are also kleptothermic. They can raise their own body temperature artificially by matching it to an external source. And John just happens to be the warmest thing in the room.

Todd's breath is still slow and hypnotic, warm sighs of air against John's neck. His feeding hand is twisted into John's shirt, nails pressing lightly against the skin beneath the fabric. It shouldn't be as comforting as it is. 

It's still night, so John is in no hurry to get up. There are hours yet before he has to be anywhere, and he'd much rather like like this for a while more, feeling the presence of another body against his. It feels right. 

It's not about sex, or attraction. It's about not being alone. Because although John knows perfectly well that he's not alone, that his team and the expedition are outside, in the city, living their own lives, it's so easy to forget about that at night, in a dark and empty room. Even though his friends are only minutes away, they seem much further when night falls and they each go to their own rooms.

Todd feels solid against him, a living, breathing reminder than he isn't alone. 

John suspects this is part of being Hive. A Wraith who has a Hive is never alone, but Todd is far from his Hive, which never going to bring him good memories, not with his past. All he has here is John, and John's mind can't offer that assurance, and so it becomes physical instead. He doesn’t want to think about it too much, though, because the whole Hive thing is still really unsettling. 

Especially because he’s starting to understand it a little too well.

Yawning a little, John curls back into the Wraith and closes his eyes again, willing himself to go back to sleep. It might be a long time until he gets the chance to do so again. The need to get some rest far outweighs the awkwardness of basically cuddling with a Wraith. It’s not as though anyone else will know. 

In his sleep, Todd shifts even closer, making a contented purr. 

*

John wakes again to a slightly less dark room and a slightly more awake Wraith curled against him.

It’d be hard to tell if he wasn’t so aware of his presence, but Todd seems tenser than before, his breath faster, pointing to a more alert state. 

It’s understandable, considering that their current situation is equally unnatural for them both. With any other man, and any other alien, it might have gotten too strange, but this is Todd, who has literally held John’s life in his hands and returned it, which was a far more intimate thing than their current situation.

So John rolls away and unfurls himself as though he was used to sleeping with Todd at his side, sitting up so he can stretch himself out. He yawns as he rolls his muscles around, stiff from sleeping in an unaccustomed position. The position honestly bothers him more than the company. 

“Morning,” he offers, rubbing his neck and wincing a little. Maybe he needs to invest in better pillows in case of repeated Wraith invasions of his bedroom. That’ll be a fun requisition form to fill out. It might be smarter to ask Dave to send some for next Christmas.

Todd gives something that is probably a returned greeting, though it’s hard to tell. While he is usually happy enough to talk about things if he has cause to do so, he is still a Wraith, and Wraith still prefer less verbal ways to communicate. 

John decides to take it as a returned greeting anyway. 

He doesn’t jump when a sharp-nailed hand ends up on his neck, and doesn’t know if he should be proud or worried about it, but his urge to pull away and glare goes away very quickly as Todd begins rubbing firm circles over his tense muscles, ever mindful of his claw-like nails. It feels surprisingly good, the tension rapidly melting away under the gesture. For a while, John allows his eyes to drift close, tilting his neck to the side and his head forwards to allow the best access. 

It’s undeniably weird, this thing; the unspoken bond that isn’t quite a truce, nor a friendship, but somehow more intimate than either. 

“Hive,” Todd informs him softly, pressing his thumb into a stubborn knot of muscle. John has no idea if he spoke out loud, though he doesn’t think he did. He supposes it doesn’t matter.

It’s weird, but he has to admit that it’s really not that bad. 

Not that bad at all

**Author's Note:**

> Title happily taken from Toki no Horousha, a vocal version of Terra's theme from Final Fantasy VI.


End file.
